Impala Cafe
by DOHM
Summary: When Castiel finds himself traveling homeless and freezing in the snow, he thoughtlessly enters a cafe. He is met with a kind, attractive stranger named Dean Winchester, free food, and a new job. What does this cafe have in store for Castiel? Can Castiel restart his life here? Something seems a little off with the tight uniforms and rather attractive workers in the cafe.
1. Frozen

Castiel squished his eyes together to protect them from the freezing sting of the snowflakes shooting downwards from the sky. The slight yellow light of street lamps shining through the darkness was offensive to his icy eyes. He knew he couldn't power through for much longer. His bare feet marinating in the brown slush of the sidewalk felt like statues of their former selves. He reminded himself to take steps like a machine. _One._ SLOSH. _Two._ PLOOSH. _One._ SKID. _Two._ BLOOSH. He pulled his light windbreaker closer into himself, and released a sacred breath of warm air. The street was barren and cruel. It was devoid of any soul to even ambivalently glance over his slumping figure, a fact that was eerie and strangely comforting to the traveler.

_'Not that I would deserve any pity,'_ Cas whispered in thought to himself: not in a manner of self deprecation, but of fact. He had run away of his own accord after all.

He had walked for days. Completely left his former life three towns over. Ate stale pizza out of trash cans. Almost froze to death. Was still in the process, quite honestly. He thought he vaguely remembered the town he was currently in being called Lawrence. Perhaps. His brain had been in what seemed in a fugue state for the past few days. There wasn't another ample reason for how he could have continued continuing for so long.

All of a sudden the feeling of his consciousness started to evaporate from his head, the cold seeming to suck the life out of him through his ears. He tripped over an abrasion in the sidewalk, and was received by a cheek full of dirty snow and and an incessant buzzing bouncing between his ears. He laid there placidly for a few seconds. He could just embrace this position. Give into the buzzing. Wouldn't that be sweet?

_'No,'_ A voice echoed vaguely in his head._ 'No. Collect yourself, Castiel. This cannot be the end.'_ He raised his head up like a drunk baseball player swings a bat, and the rest of his body followed. He swung his body toward the nearest building on the street with a neon pink and blue OPEN sign in the window. His weight fell against the door as he struggled to pull it open. He was soon enveloped with the warm smell of cinnamon and fresh coffee nuzzling his nose, the aroma of a cafe Castiel's brain sluggishly computed. He took a few steps, and collapsed onto a plush green couch, completely disregarding its quiet wish to be unsoiled by his wet dirtiness. Castiel closed his eyes and sighed. His body showed no sign of warming up, and with it now juxtaposed with the warm ambiance of the room, he started to tremble. No one had been present as he walked in, but a bell had alerted the store that someone had entered. He had started to doze off when he was interrupted by a voice.

"Hey there, stranger," A friendly and nonchalant voice sounded near Castiel's head, as if frozen patrons napping on an entire couch were commonplace in this strange land of Lawrence. Castiel pried his eyelids open to meet this speaker.

Castiel eyed khaki shorts, a green apron, and a tight white button down rolled past the elbows as he swung his eyes upward. As Castiel's frozen gaze met his green eyes, the stranger realized something was wrong.

"Whoa, _whoa,_ are you okay, man? You look like a popsicle," He blurted out, appalled. Cas barked a laughed in spite of himself.

"No really," The man lowered to his knees next to Castiel, his warm breath coaxing him into consciousness, "How long have you been outside? Do you even have shoes? Am I going to have to amputate a goddamn foot in the cafe?"

Cas couldn't force his lips to form words. All he could do was slam his eyes shut again, tremble and shiver, and wish for it all to be over. The stranger shot up urgently.

"Crowley!" He shouted to the back of the shop. He started taking steps away from Castiel. "Crowley, there is a guy here and he is frozen solid! Can you get me one of the extra uniforms, oh, and socks, I'm going to make him something to warm him up!"

"What about the patrons?" A voice called out.

"Oh, come on,_ it's a tuesday night_, there are no patrons in the cafe," The man called back, irritated. Castiel was slightly confused by the word "patrons," but had no energy to question it

"Does this _frozen guy_," A sneering voice rang out, "Have the means to afford our hospitality?"

"Shut up, boss, let's just help him out," The man snapped back. Castiel could hear the frothy sound of a cup being filled, and the crinkling of paper. The man flew back over to Castiel.

_'Why is this stranger helping me? I deserve this fate,"_ Castiel thought as he slammed his eyes closed in resignation.

"This is a hot chocolate, and a cinnamon roll I took out of the oven not even five minutes ago," The man sputtered out, "Come on, let's get up straight, buddy, open your eyes."

Castiel reluctantly felt his center of gravity being shifted upwards, a piping hot mug being shoved into his hand and a gooey blob of dough in the other. Castiel opened his eyes and was met by the amenable eyes of this stranger.

"Thank...you," He strangled past his slight pink lips.

The man's face burst into a beaming smile, "No problem." He stood up, and pulled a chair over to sit across from Castiel. He leaned back, his hands behind head, and introduced himself: "My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. Drink up!"

As Castiel started to feel warm nourishment enter his cavernous stomach again, color started to seep back into his mind. He looked around and saw a very tasteful cafe. It had sunny, yellow dandelion walls, with green accents. He was sitting on a couch pressed against the glass front window of the store. He looked around and booths and high top tables and chairs and a cherry wooden bar near the coffee maker and case of deserts across the room from him. He noted two doors. A large menu on the wall on opposite from him advertised all of the specials that Impala Cafe had to offer scribbled in multiple colors of chalk. At the very bottom of the board there was written in large, legible letters: **"RULE #1: RESPECT THE EMPLOYEES."** Every item he read on the menu sounded tasty, but nothing looked more delicious than the kind stranger seated in front of him.

In his frozen state, Cas' mind had skipped over a few of the finer details of the man's-Dean, he had said his name was- figure. His eyes gained a piercing green intensity. His jaw gained a sharp, sexy definition. His tight white shirt accentuated pulsating muscles. Cas' mouth actually watered before he shoved a bite of cinnamon roll down his throat.

"I am Castiel," he muttered after he finished the gooey treat.

Dean tilted his head in bemusement: "Castiel? That's a strange na-"

"Here's your extra uniform, you demanding intgrate," A trenchant voice entered the room. A stout man with thinning back hair and a sneer seemingly permanently etched onto his face became the face behind this voice. Cas took a sheepish sip from his mug, suddenly self conscious for forcing Dean to be castigated by this man.

"Thanks, boss," Dean obliged without looking at him.

"If you think I'm going prance my ass over there, you've got another think coming, Winchester."

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered, "All bark, and no bite, that guy. Don't pay him any attention."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Dean stood up and turned away. Cas almost spilled his drink all over his lap with the accompanying sight. The uniform Dean wore was so tight less than nothing was left to the imagination.

_'Have I died? Is this Heaven?'_

Dean turned around suddenly and Castiel's jaw shot so quickly back into position, he felt a spinning sense of whiplash. "Come on, let's get you into some non-frozen clothes, huh?"

Cas wrestled to find a coaster, and carefully placed his half-empty mug on top of it. He then fell into step behind Dean. As the two approached the counter, Crowley squinted and analyzed Castiel. He seemed pleased with what saw because the corners of his mouth turned into a devilish smirk pretty quickly.

"So, you're new to town, I assume? Not even a pair of shoes to your name? Would you, perhaps, like a job?"

Cas deliberated for a second. Maybe this place could be a good way for him to start from scratch. Maybe he could build a new life here. Maybe-

"Whoa, boss, hold up," Dean injected before Cas could answer, "We basically just resuscitated him, and you're offering him a job?"

"My maternal instincts are kicking in, what can I say, I want to help the kid," Crowley's tone sounded forcibly harmless, "Besides it's only serving coffee."

Dean narrowed his eyes, and looked unconvinced before stating between clenched teeth: "As long as it's only serving coffee."

"And it will be!" Crowley sang joyously before slapping Cas on the back, making him double over slightly. "Your new get-up is right there, you can stay in one of the rooms above tonight; you'll start tomorrow!"

Castiel's cautiously eyes darted from Crowley's to Dean's before he decided to throw caution to the wind. He didn't really have a life anymore, anyway. This real did seem like a good place to start rebuilding.

"O-okay..." He stammered sheepishly, looking quickly at his new uniform on the counter, at Crowley's surreptitious smile, and then at Dean's genuine one, "...Boss."


	2. Nobody Likes Oatmeal Cookies

Castiel found himself in the one stall bathroom of the Impala Cafe, trying to fit into his new clothes provided by Crowley. It was proving to be a daunting task, as they were _really_ tight.

"Are all of these uniforms abnormally small?" Castiel spoke timidly through the door.

"Uh," Dean's uncertain voice responded, "They run...small."

Castiel sighed in relief as he finally managed to button his shorts. The outfit certainly felt tight, but breezy and comfortable at the same time. He stepped over to look in the mirror, and saw his slim frame on display for the entire world, and their mother. He made a mental note to ask Crowley for a larger one at a later date. As he was fixing his messy, residually damp hair, he saw a bit of graffiti on the mirror. A messy red pen scrawled in the corner read: "For A Good Time Call: 555-DEAN-WINCHESTER." Castiel pondered the rudeness of the comment before seriously inspecting his stormy, blue eyes.

_'I was homeless an hour ago. I wanted to die on the street an hour ago. I ran away from my entire life a matter of days ago...and now, suddenly, these men in the cafe...they're, they're giving me hope...'_

The corners of his mouth turned upward in a slight smile. He turned and left the small room. As he opened the door, his eyes were met with the figure of Dean, lazily leaning against the wall across from the door, a content look occupying his face.

"Everything fit okay?" Dean asked softly, and was met with a quiet nod from Castiel. He smiled as he started to lead Castiel back into the cafe's main area. In the opposite direction, Castiel turned slightly and saw an elevator at the end of a dark hallway. He silently questioned its purpose before hurrying to follow Dean.

As they entered the cafe, they saw Crowley impatiently tapping his floor near the opposite door.

"I'm going to head out," He called across the room, "So, Dean, why don't you show Cassie here around a little before you show him upstairs, and then lock up?"

"Will do, Boss."

Dean and Castiel entered "Coffee Shop 101" and as Dean instructed he started to make small talk with his trainee.

"So, Cas-I'm gonna call you Cas- why were you even out tonight?"

Castiel smiled slightly at the creation of his new nickname. "I just made an exodus from my previous life, and was traveling...looking for a new one...I suppose." He muttered as he topped off a practice frappucino. "Is that how it's meant to be done?"

"Yeah, you're a natural, man!" Dean took the cup from Cas' hand, and took a hearty sip from it. "It tastes great, too!"

"Thanks," Cas mumbled.

"God damn, I wish I could have made fraps this good my first day," Dean smiled in spite of himself as he took another sip.

"Perhaps it is my destiny to work in a cafe," Cas mused, "Although my destiny seems to be changing at a rather rapid rate these days."

"Yeah...why did you...leave your old life...in the dust? Is that what you said you did?" Dean titled his head, confused.

Cas let a slight laugh split his lips. "Close enough," He uttered and looked away, hoping it would cue Dean not to push him.

Dean overlooked this cue. He moved his body to stare straight into Cas' eyes: "What happened?"

Cas felt his heart palpitate and swiftly looked at the floor, as Dean chugged the rest of the drink. "I d-don't really want to talk about it, actually."

Dean nodded sympathetically, "Hey, we all got our shit, man. It's fine. You've grasped all the basic drinks, so let's do the pastries."

Cas let out a sigh of relief, and then felt his heart flutter in his chest as Dean roughly pulled his hand toward the pastry case.

Dean bent at the knees a little to get on at eye level with the pastries in the case. "Okay, so it seems to go without saying, but I always ask the customers who point to oatmeal cookies if they_ really_ want oatmeal cookies because most of the time _they do not_-"

The sound of the entry bell rang. A tangible aroma of tequila forced its way into the cafe. The cafe door slammed shut.

"Yeah, tha's the ass I been lookin' for," A stumbling voice berated Cas' ears. He looked confusedly toward Dean, who rolled his eyes without shifting his gaze away from the oatmeal cookies.

"Can't you see we are closed, Alastair?" Dean's suddenly bored and venomous voice came as a stark contrast to the one Cas had been briefly acquainted with.

"Yeah, I saw thaht, I did, but I need you baby, righ' now, why don't we just head up-" Alastair's desperate whine falling on deaf ears.

"Do you want me tell Crowley that you stopped in tonight?" Dean's voice smooth as he turned to face the drunken man.

He swayed and thought about that outcome. "No."

"Well, alright then," Dean's face featured a pleased smirk as he waved, "See you never, asshole."

"Well...wha'...about your friend there, he looks like a vir-"

_"Leave,"_ Dean roared as he suddenly exploded and flew across the cafe. He shoved Alastair back a few inches, **_"NOW."_**

"All right, all right, Winchesturr," Alastair rasped as Dean threw him out on the street. Dean's face was livid. He turned around and was met with an extremely confused Cas who shifted slightly in place under the infuriated gaze, vaguely turned on by the confrontation.

If Dean Winchester blushed, you would have said he blushed. But Dean Winchester does not blush, so you can he became red in the face as his face filled with sheepishness. He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to think of an explanation- any explanation- when Cas offered up.

"Well...we all got our...shit, don't we?"

Dean smiled and warmed Cas' body from the inside out. "We do," The smile persisted as he checked his watch, "And that was the bad shit. But, there's also the good shit. My little brother Sammy gets extremely worried if I don't come home by midnight. I will see you bright and early in the morning?" Dean started to make his way outside.

"Wait, Dean? Where am I supposed to be sleeping?"

"Oh," Dean suddenly remembered, "Go back to the elevator, and go up to level four. You can take a shower and do whatever you need to, okay?"

"Okay," Cas nodded.

"Tomorrow," Dean said as he turned off the lights and closed the door. It clicked locked. Dean waved vigorously through the window, and Cas waved back.

Cas looked around the cafe. It felt cozy. Comfortable, already. He smiled to himself as he crossed to the back, past the bathrooms, and to the elevator. He clicked the up button, and waited a few seconds before being met with an open elevator door. The elevator had light, hunter green carpeting, and mirrors from floor to ceiling. The inside of the elevator was minimalistic, but had the same taste the cafe seemed to radiate. Cas assumed it was Crowley's taste. He thought about how unnerving it was to watch himself in the mirrors as he traversed the building up to the fourth floor. When the elevator doors opened Cas was surprised to see an apartment that was as big as the entire first floor of the cafe. It seemed like it was extravagantly decorated, but Cas didn't care to notice the extent. All he cared about was getting into to bed, and after getting tangled in the lofting canopy of the bed he found, he fell right into it and to sleep in minutes.


	3. We Get A Surge of Customers Late

Castiel didn't dream at all that night. It was a habit he had fallen into as of late. He started coming to as he felt a strong grip shaking him back and forth.

"Cas, come on buddy," A deep voice coddled his groggy mind, "It's time to get up."

Castiel squeezed his eyes together tighter, but then felt them fly all the way open. They traveled wildly around the room and took in an unknown environment. It had haunting, deep red walls, or so he assumed: the bed he was in had a dark black satin canopy cloistering him away from the rest of the room. The sheets were silk. Castiel backed away from the intruder- thoughts of flying fists and incessant screaming echoing through his mind- and stared at him wide eyed.

"What is it? Did I forget to brush my teeth or something?" Dean asked, sounding self conscious.

Castiel blinked. Memory surged through this mind.

"N-no, it's nothing," Cas mumbled, "I forgot where I was for a second."

"You're in the penthouse of the Impala Cafe," Dean smiled slightly before sporting a serious expression, "And we are on the clock."

Cas slipped slowly out of the bed, and looked down at his rumpled uniform, which he had slept in the night before. "Do I look...presentable?"

Dean had turned to inspect his teeth in a nearby mirror. "You look fine," he said without looking at him, "It's just a coffee shop, not a runway."

Dean turned back to Cas to give him a reassuring smile before leading him out the door and through the apartment. Cas was stunned by the adornments he hadn't bothered to notice the night before. A flat screen T.V. A large and inviting sanguine leather couch. Mahogany hardwood floors subtly clicked under Dean's and his shoes. What seemed to be expensive, avant garde artwork almost littered the walls. Crowley had a really nice place here, and Castiel felt extremely grateful that he had thoughtlessly let him stay.

"What time is it?" Cas yawned.

"Te-e-e-en," Dean started urgently as he looked at his watch, "Thirteen. We are late."

The door to the elevator opened, and the two stepped in. Cas looked around the cramped chamber and felt suddenly self conscious surrounded by Dean and his doubles in the mirrored walls. He studied Dean's built, muscled form in the mirror before comparing it to his own slim- almost starved- form. He lowered his gaze to look at his feet while he waited for the elevator to arrive on the first floor.

"What?" Dean asked blankly.

Castiel turned his head slowly to meet his eyes. "What, what?"

"You look like someone just ran over your dog," Dean exaggerated, "What's wrong? Not a morning person?"

"I suppose so," Cas mumbled.

"Well, we'll get you there," Dean chirped as the door to the elevator opened. The two walked into the main floor of the cafe. "I'll open the place, go ahead and take a seat behind the counter."

Cas did as Dean instructed, and watched him turn all of the lights on, pull the cord on the open sign, and start pastries of the day in the kitchen behind the other door Cas had noted the day before.

"I make all the food here," Dean called to a silent Cas from behind the kitchen door.

"Is that so?" Cas mused.

"Yeah, well, I learned how to do it because- hold on," Dean poked his head out from behind the door before explaining: "This felt too personal to shout through a door."

"Okay?" Cas turned his head quizzically.

"I learned how to make all sorts of sweets because my Mom died when I was a kid. I wanted Sammy to have the things that all the other kids with Moms had, and Dad sure as Hell wasn't going to learn how to make lemon bars. So I did," Dean's tone was matter of fact, no sense of whining or complaining. As if this was the only possible answer to this situation in the world.

Cas looked at him in silence for a second. This man was amazing. Honestly amazing. "W-wow, I'm sorry," He managed to stutter out.

"Sorry for what?" Dean asked through the door after retracting his head from the doorway and re entering the kitchen.

"F-for, uh," Cas started, trying to name his deep sympathies for Dean as anything other than deep attraction. "For the weight of your life up to this point, I suppose," He concluded and nodded at his smart save.

A buzz sounded from the kitchen. The sound of a full cooking sheet scraping against the metal tray of an oven poked Cas' ears. Dean propped the kitchen door open with his foot, and carefully made it through the door with the goods in hands. When Cas saw what the tray in Dean's bloated oven mitt clad hand bore, he smiled and sent a silent question into Dean's eyes.

"I know I said that the oatmeal cookies are unpopular," Dean rationalized with a smirk, "But we gotta make 'em for the infrequent oddball with a fetish for 'em."

Cas chuckled silently to himself as Dean strided toward the display case. The two existed in silence for a few minutes, apart from the sound of Dean placing and arranging the goodies in the case. If the sound of Cas' eyes being riveted to Dean's impassioned eyes, his capable biceps, or his tight ass made a sound, the cafe would have been be filled to the brim with the sound of a cacophonous, sexually charged orchestra. Lucky for him they did not.

He moved his eyes from Dean to the street outside, in quiet contemplation. "Sometimes I feel like an oatmeal cookie," he finally broke the silence with a powerful half-whisper.

"Like infrequent oddballs have a fetish for you?" Dean quipped instantly with his head still engulfed in the case.

"No," Cas smiled slightly despite his insecurity as he turned to meet Dean's gaze. He was finished with the cookies, and had made the case completely presentable to customers in minutes. He looked at Cas with narrowing confused eyes. Cas continued with a subdued sadness: "Like not a soul on this Earth wants me."

"Don't be like that, Cas," Dean rolled his eyes. He walked towards Cas, gingerly placed his hand on his shoulder, and directed his eyes into Castiel's. "Crowley wanted you enough to give you this job. I want you enough to teach you how to do it. Whatever happened to you in past- whatever it was- it is the past. We are living right now, and right now," The sound of the entry bell rang causing Dean's mouth to curl upward, "Right now we have a customer."

Castiel followed Dean's gaze with a smile while his heart raced immersed in the soft, reassuring praise he had he just received from his beautiful cohort. The man who had entered the cafe sported some sort of old fashioned hat (it almost warranted the term "cap") that belonged in another era. His face was wide and honest looking, with a polished beard framing his features. It was brilliantly lit with a wide smile.

"Benny!" Dean's enthusiasm was palpable.

"Dean," The man nodded coolly.

"Cas," Dean said, turning to him, "This is Benny. He's one of our regulars. He's a big shot book editor and does most of his work in our modest little cafe."

"I resent that," Benny smiled, a slight taste of a southern accent flavoring his sentences, "Hello, Cas."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"No, no, none of that 'sir' business," Benny shook his head, "Save that for Crowley's big ego."

Dean exploded into laughter at the man's small joke, resulting in a wave of quiet validation washing over his face. Cas noted the look Benny's eye as matching the look his own eyes most likely possessed when aimed toward Dean, and wondered what sort of relationship the two shared.

"What can we get'cha, Benny?" Dean asked once he had caught his breath.

"Well, I got a lot of work I gotta get down today, so get me one a' those bottomless mug deals," Benny said, scrounging through the overhead menu in order to confirm his order, "And start me off with a...hell, nothin' fancy, just a black coffee."

Cas started to fill a round mug with the amber liquid as Dean collected a crumpled bill from Benny. The cash register chimed as it opened and closed. Cas smiled as he topped off his first real drink, and he turned and handed it to the man.

"Thank you," He said simply as he received his drink.

"It's no problem, sir-" (A chastising look bore into Cas' eyes) "B-benny," He quickly corrected himself.

"Just holler if you want any more," Dean nodded politely.

"Will do."

Dean's polite salesperson tone turned to casual friend in an instant: "How long are you going to stay today?"

"Well," Benny's eyes became a little clouded, "I really got a lot of work, and I've been so stressed lately...I was thinkin'...I would stay 'till...closing."

"Fantastic," Dean instantly replied.

"Is that alright?" Benny seemed concerned.

"Yeah, I'm on staff all day and into tonight," Dean informed Benny with a pleasant, yet goofy grin.

"Great," Benny mirrored his grin, before walking away, taking a seat at a table, and pulling stacks and stacks of papers out of his bag.

The two men continued to serve infrequent customers, none staying in the cafe for too long. Cas found the work engaging enough that he wasn't bored, but light enough that he wasn't stressed, and overall very pleasant. As an added bonus, he got to talk to Dean in the lulls of customer influx.

"Tell me more about your brother," Cas stated bluntly while sitting in a stool behind the counter. A new customer hadn't entered in maybe twenty minutes.

"Sammy? Oh, Sammy's great," A proud smile crinkled the lines around Dean's eyes in a wise-looking way, which warmed Cas' heart so much he followed suit. "He's 17, a senior in high school- smart, so smart, smarter than I could ever understand. He studying so that he can get into a big law school, and I'm working so that we can afford it." Dean raised his hand behind his head, and scratched his neck, seeming to deliberate before he continued seriously: "With mom and dad gone, he's all I really got left in this world."

"You're an orphan?" Sympathy swelled through Cas' heart like ice water.

"Did I forget to mention that?" Dean asked dismissively, "Yeah, Mom died when we were little, and Dad drank himself dead a few years ago. It's honestly easier for Sam and I to get by without him."

Cas was lost for words. "I'm sorry," He finally managed.

"Stop apologizing. It's not your fault, is it?" Dean raised his eyebrows with slight condescension.

"No," Cas bit his lip, "I suppose not."

"Then we move on, living in the now," Dean declared as he turned to face incoming customers, effectively ending the conversation.

As the day continued, Cas got a better handle on pouring exactly the right amount of liquid into a mug, how to use the tongs to pull food out if the case without squishing it, how to work the register, and other cafe subtleties. Around 5 o'clock, a familiar sneer entered the cafe.

"Hello boys," Crowley smiled.

"Hey, boss."

"Sir," Cas nodded.

As Crowley approached, he seemed to be appraising Castiel again, his eyes moving up and down his figure. "That uniform suits you," He finally acknowledged.

"Crowley-" Dean started critically.

"It's just a compliment, Dean," Crowley narrowed his eyes, "Get a hold of yourself."

"Thank you, sir," Cas drawled, feeling awkward. "Oh, thank you for letting me stay in your apartment, as well."

"My wha'?" A look of incomprehension in his eyes.

"The room...upstairs?" Cas motioned upward trying to explain, not having expected this to be a confusing concept.

"Oh, the penthouse, you mean," Crowley nodded, raised his eyebrows, and grinned before continuing, "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, sir," Cas nodded, before feeling confused and slightly uncomfortable, "Do you not...reside there? It's so beautifully furnished."

"We...rent it out to...tenants occasionally," Crowley picked his words with tact, "So, no, I do not 'reside' there."

Dean loudly cleared his throat.

"How's the first day treating you, Cassie?" Crowley quickly diverted the conversation.

"Quite well," Cas smiled, feeling comfortable again, "I enjoy working here."

"Good, good," He nodded dismissively, "I'm going to head upstairs and get a little administrative work done. Who's slated to come in tonight, Winchester?"

"Jo and Gabriel should be coming in 'round 8," Dean stated.

"It should be a fun night, then," Crowley chuckled before walking through the door to the elevator.

Cas sat in silence for a few moments before vocalizing his confusion. "Why are more employees coming in so late?"

"We, uh," Dean stopped short and diverted his wide eyes from Cas' prodding expression. "Uh, we get a surge of customers...late...into the night..."

"Why?"

"Ok...Cas, uh," Dean scratched his head and continued in a slow whisper, "There's something I should tell y-"

"Dean?" Benny's voice instantly came between the hushed conference as he approached the counter with an empty mug.

Dean turned quickly to meet the customer. "Yeah, Benny? What can I get you?" The Dean Schmooze had been turned on like a light switch, and Cas felt like he had been left in the dust.

"Just another black coffee."

Dean smiled and slowly took the cup out of Benny's hands, overtly brushing his fingers over the man's fingers. A sheepish smile broke out across his bearded face, and the two shared a silently moment of charged eye contact, with Cas standing as a single spectator. Cas felt a cocktail of confusion, irritation, and unwarranted jealousy burning in his stomach as he watched Benny ogle Dean's back while filling his cup, but made sure to keep his expression neutral.

"Here you go, Benny," Dean offered the cup with a gracious smile.

"Thanks, Dean," Benny said without moving.

"Got something else you wanna say?"

"Y-yeah," Benny's voice suddenly timid. His eyes regarded a silent Cas before returning to Dean's and dropping his voice to little more than a whisper, "I-is the penthouse available tonight?"

Dean awkwardly eyed Cas before continuing with his flirtatious bravado. "It is. Would you like to stay here tonight?"

Benny nodded.

"Okay, we can get that all worked out later," Dean jokingly waved him off, "Go get your work done, big shot."

Following this conversation, the rest of the evening was spent with Dean finding some sort of work to do. He cleaned the oven. Baked extra muffins. Made rounds throughout the cafe to offer refills. Anything to avoid Cas, it seemed. Cas was confused and irritated by Dean's incongruous behavior, but accepted the fact that Dean didn't really owe him any sort of explanation.

Then, just as Dean said, around 8 o'clock a blonde woman entered the slightly more crowded cafe. She wore a more feminized version of Dean and Cas' uniforms: a tight, white blouse and slim khaki shorts that cut off closer to mid calf. She tied on her green apron as she entered the door.

"Dean!" She exclaimed.

"Jo!" He echoed with a wide smile.

She approached the counter with an apprehensive regard to Cas. Cas thought it was strange he could see just a faint trace of lace from beneath her blouse, but didn't feel strongly enough to vocalize anything. "Who is this?"

"This is Cas," Dean said, regarding Cas for the first time in an hour, "He's a new employee."

"It's nice to mee-" Cas tried to start politely.

"A new employee? What is Crowley thinking?" Jo started with her fiery gaze boring directly into Cas' eyes, "We can barely split wages across the employees we already have, and you and Gabe hardly need any more competition with clients-"

"That won't be a problem, Jo," Dean stated through clenched teeth while making a motion Cas couldn't make out out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh," She deadpanned. "Okay, then. I'm Jo," She extended her hand, "It's nice enough to meet you, Cas."

"Likewise," Cas carefully enunciated while softly shaking her hand.

"Do you think you should take off, Cas?" Dean suddenly interjected.

Cas blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Jo's here now, and you've worked all day, so...why don't you head out and take a rest?" Dean's eyes suddenly wide with kindness.

Cas found it hard to disagree with the man. "I don't have anywhere to go...could I stay upstairs again?"

"No," Dean abruptly growled. "No."

Cas stopped breathing at Dean's commanding tone, and looked into Dean's suddenly troubled eyes. He could see the cogs in the his head turned quickly, and an unexplainable distress muddying his green irises. Dean bit his lip before continuing: "No, take the keys to my apartment and go stay at my place," He finally decided, before noisily fishing his keys out of his pocket, and placing them in Cas' hand.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, one hundred percent. It's right down the street. You'll see an impala parked out in front of it," Dean explained quickly.

"O-okay," Cas stammered, "Goodbye Dean. Jo. I will see you two later."

"Bye, Cas," Jo waved with a mischievous smile.

"See ya later, buddy," Dean's genuine smile warming Cas' mind as he walked out the door of the cafe and onto the cold street outside.


	4. Helping People Baking Things

Castiel had vacantly walked down the street from the cafe for about ten minutes before spotting an Impala parked across the street outside of an apartment building. He felt a goofy smile grace his face as he cautiously crossed the street. He pushed open the door and was met with a worn wooden staircase and the smell of pine sol. Cas pulled out Dean's keys, saw "4C" engraved on them, and started up the stairs to the fourth floor. He nervously inserted the key into the lock of Dean's apartment and stepped in.

Cas' eyes were met with a very lived-in apartment. He saw rumpled clothes strewn across the floor, books and magazines laying open on tables, and pictures seemingly everywhere. He found himself entering a very handsome looking kitchen with muffins residing on the counter. Made by Dean, Cas assumed with a smirk. He walked passed the kitchen into an adjoining living area with a full table, comfy-looking couch, and an old TV. He sighed in relief as he felt the couch sag a bit under his weight.

"Dean, is that you?" A tired voice called out from an opening door.

Cas almost jumped out of his skin. He was a bit on edge. The man, who had entered the room looking amused at the outburst, was obviously used to strangers in his apartment. As Cas scrutinized his face, he noticed it still glowed with youth despite a his gargantuan stature and mature tone of voice.

"I'm Sam," He said to Cas-without waiting for a reply-as he walked toward the counter and shoved a muffin into his mouth, "Ah you a fwend of Dean?"

"We work together," Cas affirmed quietly.

"Ah, you_ work_ together," Sam parroted.

"I do not have a place to stay," Cas sputtered out trying to explain himself, "So Dean gave me his keys and told me to stay here."

"Sounds like Dean," Sam didn't need convincing.

Sam flipped through a book at the table, while Cas sat awkwardly at the couch for a few minutes. Cas' eyes traveled over the walls of the apartment, and on the collections of picture frames they held. He saw Sam and Dean with oversized backpacks climbing the stairs onto a school bus in one picture. A very young Dean smiling next to a black haired man holding a disgruntled baby Sam in his arms. A photo of a couple on their wedding day. Cas found himself lost in the memories he saw on the walls.

"Uh," Sam cleared his throat, suddenly remembering to be good host, "There's some food in the fridge if you're hungry. You can, uh, sleep on the couch. Is there anything else you...need?"

"No, you are being gracious enough as it is," Cas murmured, but then scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure!" Sam exclaimed, "There's a bottle in the fridge."

Cas stood up and made his way to the fridge. He opened and found it surprisingly well stocked and organized. He pushed a carton of milk and leftover Chinese aside to fish out the bottle of water. As he closed the door, a picture of Dean on its front stuck out to his tired eyes. He was wearing a maroon graduation gown and a humongous toothy smile. His fist clenched a diploma and was thrown up into the air in celebration: the picture had been captured at the exact right moment. His face looked thinner, and his eyes looked less weary to the world than the ones of the Dean he had met the day before. The picture stirred up Cas' heart a little before he turned and walked to sit down at the table across from Sam. They sat in silence again as Sam read and Cas quietly gulped down the water.

"I like all the pictures," Cas tried to break the silence.

"Yeah, Dean has a thing for pictures," Sam stated without looking up from his read with a grin, "My favorite is the one on the fridge."

"Dean's commencement?"

"Yeah, that was a great day," Sam's eyes lit with the memory, "Dad always told Dean he would never graduate high school. That he wasn't_ smart_ enough. That he wasn't_ motivated_ enough," Sam tone had gotten darker, but he shook his head and lightened it up as he continued: "That day, Dean gave me a disposable camera and told me to get a picture of the day he finally stuck it to him."

"I definitely got that feeling from the picture," Cas smiled, "Why do you keep so many pictures?"

"Dean always talks about," Sam sneered and languidly raised his hands to perform air quotes, "_The past reminding us to be better for the future_."

"That's very insightful."

"I think it sounds like goddamn hallmark card," Sam snickered and looked up at Cas who joined in quickly. The laughter died after a few seconds, and Sam shifted his gaze back to his book. Cas shifted awkwardly in his seat as he tried to think of a topic that would create a continuous conversation.

"Are those your parents?" Cas' eyes looked toward the wedding photo near the couch.

"Yeah. John and Mary Winchester," Sam looked up again to peer at Cas with slightly pained eyes, then to the wall housing the pictures, "They look so happy and beautiful in those pictures. I wish I had got to see them like that." Sam finally closed his book, and placed it on the table. "All I got was a frozen-in-pictures mother, and a drunk father." Sam quickly shook his head again to clear it. "But, _you_ don't want to hear about that. What's your story? Why are you in town? And, shit, I don't even know your name..."

"My name is Castiel," He started simply, "I am in town to start a new life."

Sam looked blankly at Cas for a few seconds before realizing he was not going to continue.

"Is that...all...you're going to say about that?"

Cas swallowed. "Yes."

"Well, okay," Sam shrugged, "How do you know Dean?"

"I stumbled into the cafe the other day, suffering from a preemptive case of hypothermia, and Dean warmed me up," Cas' face reddened before he continued sheepishly, "And he got me a job at the cafe."

"And what do you _do_...at the cafe?" Sam prodded.

Cas tilted his head in confusion. "Serve coffee?"

"Right, yeah, stupid me," Sam forced a laugh passed his lips. Cas politely mirrored his laugh. "Well, it doesn't surprise me Dean helped someone like you," Sam murmured as he subtly eyed Cas.

"He has a kind soul," Cas was ignorant to the subtlety.

"Something on him's kind," Sam said under his breath, "Do you want to watch TV or something?"

The two moved to the couch and put on some nature show. Lion snapping gazelles, necks and all that. Right as one unfortunate creature got pounced on and the predator barreled towards its limp neck-

"_Goddammit_!" Sam shot up onto his feet (towering over the sitting form of Cas) when the TV's picture sputtered out and transformed into blaring static. "This TV never works!" Sam moved toward the TV and proceeded to smack it on its side with a blunt fist until the picture magically faded back into view.

"The only thing I want for Christmas this year is a working TV," Sam grumbled as he plummeted back onto the couch next to Cas.

"That's right….Christmas…" Cas muttered to himself.

"Yeah, Christmas," Sam turned to look at him confusedly, "It's coming up soon."

Cas felt his mouth push together in a tight line. He battled with the words that he wanted to say before letting them quietly pass his stiff lips. "This is the first time in my life that I am going to be alone on Christmas."

Sam's eyes narrowed with concern. "You mean you don't have anybody?"

"No," Cas grimaced as he reached his hand around his back to caress the still tender bruise residing there, "Not anymore."

"Well," Sam contemplated Cas' troubled expression, "If that's still true by Christmas, I'm sure we can let you spend it here."

"Thank you, Sam," Cas smiled slightly, his heart swelling. "I honestly do not know where I would be right now if you Winchesters had not shown me such kindness."

"It's nothing," Sam shrugged, "Helping people, baking things, it's basically the family business."

The two broke out into quiet chorus of laughter before entering a period of comfortable silence. As time went on Sam started to nervously eye the clock on the wall more and more.

"Dean told me you get nervous if he's not home before midnight," Cas remembered. He turned to look at the clock and saw that is was well past one in the morning.

"Yeah, I like to know that he's not in trouble," Sam bit his lip, worry painting his face.

"I'm sure he's not," Cas reassured, trying to sound convincing.

"He could be staying in the penthouse..." Sam mused.

"Oh, no," Cas shook his head, "Benny is staying in the penthouse tonight."

"Oh," Sam's eyes widened with understanding. "Okay. I'm sure Benny will take good care of him. I'm gonna go to sleep, I have a test in the morning."

"Good night?" Cas' slight whiplash from Sam's sudden transformation from worry to ease created a questioning tone.

"Night," He said as he pulled down the lights and slammed his bedroom door.

Cas frowned into the dark room with confusion before laying down on the sagging couch. He placed a pillow found nearby under his head, and thick blanket over his body. He pulled the blanket up to his face and inhaled a musky scent that was instantly attributable to Dean. He smiled groggily as he fell asleep with visions of Dean Winchester fogging up his tired brain.


	5. The Penthouse

Dean felt the air in his lungs pushed out as Benny threw him down and pinned him to the silky bed in the Penthouse. Benny lifted Dean's legs and moved into grind their hips together as his lips smacked against Dean's, hungry and needy. His beard tickled Dean's chin. Dean made a mental note not to struggle under the restrain of Benny's calloused hands while he felt Benny's tongue deliberately probe his own. Benny liked to dominate, but Dean knew that deep down he was a gentle soul. Nothing to report to Crowley.

"Fuck, Dean," He grunted sloppily on to Dean's mouth, "I missed you so much."

Dean smiled with a feral edge. That's what he liked to hear. "I missed you too, buddy." Benny had been indulging in Dean's services for almost a year now, but they hadn't had a session in a few weeks. Dean still knew exactly what he had to do to get Benny off, to get him to enjoy it, and to get him to come back. Dean knew he was good at what he did. And if it helped supplement his measly income, what harm was there in getting some people off for cash? Dean's methodical thoughts were interrupted when he began to feel Benny's raging erection rub against his own hardening cock. It was good that he was getting hard. Once he was horny, he would be able to focus on his work, instead of logistics, or about how Sammy was probably worrying at home about him, or about the five hundred dollars he was currently earning. Dean really didn't feel like a cheap whore when he didn't think about it.

Benny moved his hands from Dean's- releasing him- and moved them to grope his chest. He palmed Dean's firm pecs. "I love your body, baby, why don't you let me see it?" Benny softly bit down on Dean's bottom lip before pulling away. He wanted Dean to undress himself. Dean started to unbutton his shirt, but started having trouble. He got two undone before grumbling,_ "Damn thing is always tight..."_

Benny hesitated a second before a wild look overtook his eyes that made Dean smile with animalistic lust. "I'll buy you a new one," He growled as he slit down the buttons of the shirt and ripped it off of Dean's warm body. That did it, Dean hit the peak of arousal as he slipped into his sexual state of mind. He let out a deep, pornographic moan as Benny reunited his lips with his own. His hands hungrily pulled Benny's button down over his head as he desperately sought to feel Benny's burly chest under his hands. A wife-beater became his final obstacle.

"I_ won't_ buy you a new one," Dean growled with a smirk as he pried open the shirt and threw its torn corpse onto the floor. Benny let out a low chuckle as Dean's hands traveled over Benny's expansive chest and firm abs. Dean looked directly into his eyes as he reached down to grasp Benny's swollen member through his pants. Benny let out a moan and had his belt undone and threw his pants in the corner in an instant. Dean looked down and reached his hand out to jerk Benny off through his boxers. He bit his lip, and looked back up into Benny's eyes (the clients always loved that) and saw a voracious need glowing there.

"I need it inside o' you," He grunted, not wanting to bother with foreplay.

Dean's eyes widened with lust, suddenly realizing how hot and bothered he was- he hadn't been fucked in a while. "_Fuck_, give it to me," Dean rasped out. Benny seemed more than willing to oblige Dean's sudden enthusiasm. He tore down Dean's shorts and boxers briefs and threw them away.

"There's...lube and condoms- in the n-nightstand," Dean panted as Benny lazily beat him off. Benny's face broke out into a goofy grin as he took relaxed strides to the nightstand. His dick extended off of him like a bouncing branch. Dean closed his eyes and writhed on his back listening to Benny try and fish the bottle of out the drawer. He shuddered with anticipation when he heard the cap open and Benny squirted some of the bottle onto his fingers. And then he felt one of Benny's rough fingers trail around and finally enter him. His eyes flew open as he was met with Benny's lips again pushing against his own. Benny pushed slowly in and out, savoring in the desperate moans he was eliciting from the cocky and confident Dean Winchester.

"Not so big now, huh, Dean?" Benny pulled his digits out of him and moved up to moan into Dean's ear, his accent tantalizing and exciting Dean's body, "Not when you got my fingers in you."

"Don't _tease_ me, Benny," Dean roared and begged, "_FUCK_ me!"

Benny let a validated smirk burst across his face, he basked in Dean's desire for his cock. He picked up Dean's writhing body, and flipped him onto his stomach with his lower half bent over the end of the bed. "You asked for it, so you're gonna get it," Benny purred as he aimed his dick at Dean's hole and pushed it in all the way into the hilt.

_"FUCK!"_ Dean howled.

Benny kept his dick sheathed for a few seconds before he pulled it out slowly. He moved his hands to Dean's shoulder for better leverage, and shoved him into the bed to brace him for the upcoming thrusts.

_"FUCK_ yeah, Benny," Dean sighed into the sheets of the bed, half acting the role and half completely lost in sexual fervor, "Fuckin' give it to me."

Benny showed no mercy as he savagely thrust into Dean. He knew he could take it. He bent forward, tangling his fingers in Dean's hair, and pulled his face upward back to his. Their tongues hungrily mingled as Benny continued to thrust. Benny then moved to the base of Dean's neck to nibble, suck, caress the skin there. The quiet, pragmatic side of Dean's mind thanked Benny for leaving marks that could be easily hidden. The sexual side of Dean's mind, however, had another plan entirely.

"Fuck, Benny, I'm coming!" He whimpered and shook underneath Benny.

"You ain't even touchin' your dick, baby," Benny rumbled skeptically into Dean's ear, but he looked downward in surprise when he felt Dean writhe, twitch, and squeeze around his throbbing cock. "I'll be damned," He pulled away, and pushed his hands into Dean's shoulder blades as he sped up his pace to come with him. He grunted as he emptied his load into the whimpering man. "Fuck, baby, you're so hot."

The two sighed in unison as they came down from their sexual high. Benny released the pressure on Dean's back, and leaned in to gently place kisses on to the side of his face and neck. Benny made a few more slow, residual thrusts before he pulled out of Dean and turned him over to face him. They smiled broadly at each other, before Dean's eyes traveled curiously upward, and he laughed an airy guffaw. Benny looked confusedly upward and saw the bill of his hat that the two had forgotten to remove in the heat of the moment.

"Benny, you are such a riot," Dean whooped and continued laughing.

Benny smirked as he leaned in to softly kiss the man. "You love it," He rasped onto his lips.

"I do," Dean loftily agreed.

Benny felt a sticky substance seeping on to his lower chest. He pulled away from Dean to look into his eyes. "You're messy, aren't you?"

Dean nodded. "I can go get a towel-"

"No need," Benny refuted and lowered himself to lick Dean's abdomen clean. Dean sighed as he felt Benny hot tongue trace his abdomen and lap up his seed.

"Fuck, Benny."

Benny smiled mischievously as he resurfaced to make eye contact with Dean. He pushed his lips to Dean's, a salty taste entering Dean's mouth. They kissed passionately, in a fulfilled way. Dean moved his fingers to twist themselves into Benny's hair, and hiked his legs up around the man's waist.

Benny abruptly pulled away. "I'm gonna go to sleep. I'm tired, baby."

Benny moved to lay down in the bed, and Dean got up and made his way toward finding his clothes. That was a good session, he thought: quick, easy, painless. _Nice._ They were rarely like that anymor-

"Dean?" His internal monologue was interrupted as he turned to find himself met with a troubled, needy expression from Benny, "Do you have to go?"

Benny pushed the cover down and made way for Dean to crawl into the bed next to him. Clients rarely ever asked Dean to stay the night, and never to_ cuddle_, of all things. Most of the time they liked to try and forget the entire transaction had happened right_ after_ it happened. Dean bit his lip. Sammy wouldn't know where he was. He wouldn't even know if Dean was safe. And what about Cas? What did he think was going on? He couldn't _honestly_ be that innocent, naive, and cute...but Benny was one of Dean's best customers...and his pouty expression and burly chest looked like Heaven to Dean's tired eyes…

"Okay, Benny," He conceded, "I'll stay the night with you."

Benny smiled as Dean moved into bed next to him. The two laid down together and began to spoon, Benny's flaccid cock playfully poking Dean's used ass, and his hands wrapped Dean's hips.

"Thank you, Dean," He whispered sincerely into his ear.

"Don't mention it, Benny," Dean whispered, comfortable in that position. In a few minutes he heard light snoring from the man. As far as clients went, Benny really was the best type. Caring, sweet, gentle, and the _sex_ was actually great. Dean absently thought about Sammy and Cas back at his apartment. He hoped that they weren't worrying too badly. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and saw that it was well past one in the morning. He tried to hush his worrying mind as he drifted to sleep, smells of Benny and perhaps even the residual scent of Cas from the night before floated through his sated and exhausted mind.


	6. I Brought You A Coffee

Cas awoke to the sound of shattering glass.

"Sorry, sorry," Sam's hushed voice accompanied.

Cas rubbed his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head let out a grumble. It felt too early to be awake.

"I'm sorry, I have to be up to get to school," Sam whispered urgently as his shoes shuffled against the floor, "And I have to clean this up, and I am going to be late for the sixth time this semester which means another detent-"

"I will clean that up," Cas interrupted without shifting his position on the couch.

Sam immediately rebutted, "No, no, it's fine I can just-"

"I am awake," Cas interrupted again with his tired voice. "You need to leave."

Sam eyed him and then nodded, "Thanks, Cas." He turned, took a few dragging footsteps out the door, and then Cas heard the door slam shut behind him.

Cas laid on the couch for a few minutes basking in the warmth and comfort of the nest sleep had created for him and in the foreign aroma of Winchester. He wracked his brain trying to find the motivation to face the day, which had been a constant struggle as of late.

Ever since he had left Meg.

_"Stop." _Cas mentally scolded himself as he cut off that train of thought as quickly as it arrived at the station. _"These two have been kinder to me than anyone else in my life for a while, the least I can do for them is clean up a broken glass."_

He cracked his neck, his shoulders, and his fingers as he crept slowly towards the kitchen. He glanced at the clock and noted that it was half past seven o'clock. Cas had at least two hours before it would be acceptable to go into work. He planned out the time quickly in head. Clean up the glass, take a shower, eat something...but, then what?

As Cas looked around the kitchen, he saw splinters of a glass spread upon a thin wave of white liquid. Sam had been trying to drink a glass of milk, it seemed. Cas bent down and carefully plucked all of the pieces of glass off the floor and placed them on the counter. He looked quickly around the kitchen counters and spotted a roll of paper towels that he grabbed and started using to swipe the towels across the floor to clean up the mess.

When the last of the liquid had been absorbed, he crumpled the wad of used paper towels into his arms. It ended up being the size of small, dripping wet lap dog. Cas looked frantically around the kitchen for any place to put them as his front get soggier and colder. He had his back to the door when he heard it violently swing open, which made him turn around so quickly a few of the loose towels fluttered to the floor. He was met with Sam barely covering up a laugh with a half smile upon his face.

"I left my math textbook," He rationalized his entrance, before cracking an unashamed smile, "The trash can is in the cabinet next to the fridge."

"Thank you," Cas mumbled as he moved toward the specified cabinet, prying the soppy rags off his shirt and into the garbage. Sam had taken big strides into his room, and Cas could hear him moving things around while trying to find his book.

"If you want to change," Sam called nonchalantly, "I'm sure Dean would be fine if you wore something of his."

"That would be nice," Cas called back.

Sam came back out with a rather large book tucked under his long arm and his long hair slightly disheveled. "Thank you, Cas."

"It's the least I can do."

"See ya later," He slammed the door again.

Cas looked at the glass on the counter and then at his wet uniform. He scooped up the glass and dropped it into the garbage while he decided that it would be better to wear something else to work today, than to wear his soggy and slept-in uniform.

Cas walked over the bathroom and slowly pushed the door open. He was met with a plain, little room. Blue tile. Gray walls. A red and a blue toothbrush on the sink next to cinnamon flavored toothpaste. Cas took his clothes off and neatly folded them, leaving them on the next to bare counter. He walked over to the shower, and started running the water. His hand extended tentatively into the stream and retreated immediately. The water was freezing cold. He walked toward the mirror and looked at his reflection while waiting for the water to heat up. Cas saw a healthy glow radiating from his body that he hadn't seen from himself for a while. His eyes look bright, like a crisp summer's afternoon as opposed to a dreary, torrential morning in spring. Which was new. He was already gaining back the weight he had forfeited while living on the streets, most likely due to all of the food Dean had fed him in the past two days. He absently wondered whose toothbrush was whose before wandering back over to the shower.

In his hand went again.

Out it came, again.

_Lukewarm._

He reached around the falling water to grab the body washes present in the shower. He lifted one to his nose and inhaled a simple, clean soap smell. The other was muskier, heavier, it rudely intruded upon his nose. Cas decided upon the simple soapy one, and made a mental note to thank Sam for it later (he assumed it was Sam's.) When he next checked the water, it felt bearable. Not hot by any standards, but bearable. He stepped into the shower, and made quick work of washing himself. As he lathered the body wash over himself, he found himself enveloped in its cleansing scent, and almost immediately was overcome with a hint of soft cherry in the thick air around him. He climbed out of the shower before five minutes had even passed, and looked in the cabinet under the counter to find a towel. He rubbed it over his body, and dried off quickly. As he looked at the fogged over mirror in front of him, he felt the juvenile desire to doodle in the steam cross his mind. His finger ran over the smooth surface of the mirror as he marked it with a large _"CASTIEL"_ over the area that had been hiding his face. Cas found his reflection smiling back at him with a goofy expression he almost didn't recognize.

He left the bathroom when his body was mostly dry and ventured hesitantly behind the door he assumed to be Dean's room. He looked around expecting to as many pictures as the living room, but was surprised to see the walls completely bare. The only thing in the room was a messy bed with a nightstand and an overfilled hamper. It seemed oddly out of character. On the nightstand there was single picture that Cas moved forward to look at. He saw the image of a wide-smiling Dean in his cafe uniform next to grimacing Sam wearing a tux. It looked like it had been taken before a school dance. He let out a laugh as he walked toward Dean's closet, and started to tentatively look through the clothes, looking for the most appropriate thing to borrow for himself. He settled on a pair of jeans and a t shirt for some classic rock band before moving back to kitchen. Cas looked at the clock again. He grimaced when he saw that it was only nine o'clock. He thought about watching some T.V. or reading a book for another hour, but some sort of anticipation egged him out of the apartment. An anticipation to work. To feel useful.

And, also, to see Dean again.

Cas had forgotten to grab a jacket (as he didn't own one) and he felt a bounce in his step as he rushed to make the ten minute trip down the street quicker. A cold breeze pulled at his face, still-damp hair, and unprotected body as he approached the dark window of the cafe. Cas shivered as he tried to shove every key on Dean's keychain into the door of the Impala Cafe, the last one on the ring mercifully causing the door to croak as Cas pushed it open. He flipped the lights on and moved over to the counter to turn on all of the dormant appliances. The machine buzzed under his fingers as he brewed a hot chocolate for himself. Cas opened the little recipe book that the cafe kept on the counter, and looked for a drink to make for Dean. A slight smile graced his face as he thought of Dean sleeping, wrapped up in the soft embrace of the king sized bed upstairs.

He settled on a peppermint mocha.

They were in the middle of the Christmas season, and Cas was sure Dean would like anything, anyway. He added an extra dose of espresso with the picture of an exhausted Dean before he waited for the drink brew. He took a sip from his own hot chocolate, Dean's mocha in his other hand, and felt it start to warm his bones as he waited for the elevator. The door dinged and Cas stepped into the chamber. Dean stirred up some sort childish excitement in Cas, excitement that surprised Cas as he saw the gleam in his eyes in the mirrored wall of the elevator. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it as the door to the elevator opened again. He took hesitant steps into the penthouse and stopped when he was right outside the door of the bedroom. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out. He repeated this a few times in order to calm his suddenly racing heart.

_"Calm down, Cas, it's just Dean, it will-"_ Cas' internal monologue was interrupted by the sound of a throaty groan that came through the door of the bedroom. Cas turned his head confusedly before carefully turning the knob and entering the room.

As soon as the door was cracked open, Cas saw two bodies tangling underneath the sheets of the large bed. The sound of wet kissing assaulted Cas' ears. Once his eyes adjusted to the dark room, Cas recognized the form of Dean on top of a larger man. Cas felt his heart drop down his esophagus and plummet into the acidic depths of his stomach.

He wasn't exactly sure why.

The couple was so engrossed in their carnal activity, they didn't even notice Cas standing in the lit doorway. A sudden desire to seem larger, to become known, to break up this moment overtook Cas' mind and body.

"I brought you a coffee," Cas quietly announced to the room, "We'll be on the clock soon."

He placed the coffee on the floor, retreated from the heated room, and closed the door quickly behind him.


	7. Doctor Castiel, MD

"Cas, _wait,"_ Dean trailed Cas into the hallway.

"You are fine, Dean, I can wait downstairs," Cas mumbled and stabbed the elevator button into the wall.

"I have to tell you something first," Dean turned Cas' body to face him. Cas noticed that the mocha he made him was in one of his hand, and a towel was hastily draped around his waist. Cas heard the elevator behind him open and close a few second later.

"Look, Cas," Dean exhaled.

Cas' eyes had flickered down to ogle Dean's near bare body and the phantom outline of something beneath, but he pulled them back up to look into Dean's eyes. He saw a new, troubled expression there, and felt his stomach stir.

"I, uh, sometimes...money is tight and I…" Dean started shakily before cutting himself off. He took a deep breath in and his voice came out more steadily. "I'm a whore."

Cas blinked once. Twice. Three times. "You sell your body for money?"

Dean made a face. "If you want to put it that way, yeah, I do. Sam seems convinced that Stanford will give him a full ride, but I'm working to make sure we have a Plan B."

Cas deliberated for a second. "Okay."

Dean seemed surprised. "Okay?"

"Yes, okay," Cas nodded like a bobble-head, "You need to make money for your little brother, and with your body there is close to no reason for you not to do this." He paused. "Apart from a moral aversion, which I assume is not present."

"Sure as hell not," A relieved grin pushed across his face.

"Okay," Cas shrugged.

"Okay," Dean said more assertively, and then nodded with a sense of finality, "I'll be down soon."

"I will get everything ready," Cas said as he turned and pressed the elevator button.

"Mmmmm," Dean groaned behind him, "Peppermint mocha. Good choice."

Cas smiled as he took the steps into the elevator. He watched Dean's half-naked form move away from him until the door closed. It didn't bother him that Dean was a prostitute.

_"No, it honestly doesn't,"_ He assured himself, _"He is just trying to provide the best life for he and his brother. There's nothing wrong with that."_

Cas stepped back onto the main floor of the Cafe, and turned on the rest of the appliances. He pulled down the beady cord to turn on the open sign. He looked over the pastries that had been left in the case over night. And then, he took a seat behind the counter. To wait for Dean.

He came barreling down minutes later. "Let's get to work. What do-" Dean started before cutting short when he got an eyeful of Cas, "Are you wearing my clothes?"

Cas felt self conscious as he looked down and blushed. "I spilt milk on my work unif-"

Dean took a huge sniff in. "Is that my body wash?"

"Is it? I just used the one that I liked th-"

"Really making yourself at home, aren't cha?" Cas would have thought he was being made fun of if not for Dean's wide and sincere smile. With only a hint of malice.

"Yes," Cas said into his lap.

"Well, good," Dean nodded as he held the door to the kitchen open, "I'll start today's merch."

Cas sat quietly behind the counter. The conversation with Dean had given him whiplash, and his head was spinning, tingling with self consciousness and embarrassment. Those feelings started to fade as the questions to start to nibble away at his brain. He couldn't help but vocalise them after a few minutes of listening to Dean amble around the kitchen.

"How does it work?" He called through the door.

Dean's head popped out. "How does what work?"

"The prostitution."

Dean's lips twisted upward. "Don't say_ 'prostitution,'_ it makes you sound like some sort of big-shot lawyer or a rich doctor that drives a car he can't even do the upkeep on."

"What would you prefer?"

"A...an..." Dean rubbed his hand on his scrunched up face, _"Income supplement."_

"Does that make me sound like less of a lawyer, then?"

Cas was worried that his sarcasm wouldn't be received well, but Dean laughed. Guffawed, even. "Shut up, Cas," He pulled his head back into the kitchen.

It was silent for a few seconds. Cas spoke up again, "I really am curious, Dean."

A ding from the kitchen. Dean appeared, propping the door open with his foot, again. He just barely managed to squeeze himself and the tray of pastries through the snug opening. "I know. You look good in my clothes."

Cas looked down again, his heart compressing and relaxing repeatedly in his chest. He wanted to say it was out of embarrassment, but it felt like something a lot more complicated. And more simple at the same time. All he knew was that he felt comfortable in Dean's clothes. There was a strange sensation he hadn't felt in a while. Dean started to push muffins and cookies up to the front of the display case. The tray emptied as Cas' eyes traveled over Dean's labored form. He waited for Dean to start talking. Finally, after what seemed like an hour of him primping and arranging pastries, Dean turned and met Cas' eye, an openness in them that was fresh to Cas.

"What do you want to know?"

"How does it work," Cas said it as more of a statement, than a question. He almost wanted to whip out a pencil and take notes, a desire to fill out his knowledge of Dean prominent in his mind

"Well," The sound of the elevator door opening and steps in the hallway stopped him. Benny entered the room, and tipped his cap at Dean with a wide smile.

"Hope to see you again soon, Dean."

"Can't _wait,_ Benny," Dean practically growled at the man.

Dean and Cas sat in an awkward silence (perhaps it was only awkward to Cas) as Benny took his time leaving the room. Benny looked extremely disheveled to Cas. Maybe that was because he had his naked silhouette earlier. Maybe it was because he was jealous. Maybe because he had just woken up from a night of sex. Cas wasn't exactly sure. Once Benny had walked out of the Cafe, Dean continued.

"Basically, after ten o'clock the place becomes a whore house. Everyone in town who wants to know, knows, and they know how to order. I don't _really_ know how. It's not like the menu flips over like at McDonald's and tells them how much the sex costs. But, no one really comes here after dark and doesn't know what happens upstairs."

Cas thought about his next question. "Is prostitution legal in Lawrence?"

"Watch it there with the _'prostitution',_ Doctor Castiel M.D.," Dean replied quickly and shot a chastising look Cas' way before continuing in his genuine manner, "No. We're not one hundred percent sure, but we think that Crowley has the police so deep in his pocket they just overlook us."

Cas nodded. "Is the coffee shop just a cover, then?"

Dean violently shook his head. "It's its own business."

"Do the other prostit-" Cas stopped to correct himself as Dean glowered at him, "-Employees...work here, too?"

"They do, just not every day like I do," Dean abruptly stopped the conversation as a customer entered the room. The woman wanted a decaf coffee, which Cas brewed. Dean used the tongs to grab a muffin for her. She handed a Dean a bill, and told him to keep the change. Dean's charm was never ending. The poor woman had barely been prepared. After the door closed again, Dean picked right back up. "Gabriel will be coming in tomorrow morning, oh, he's a _hoot._ I'm sure you'll love him."

"Gabriel," Cas mused.

"Yeah, he's a fuckin' trickster," Dean smiled, "And the ladies can't get enough of him."

Cas stayed silent for a few seconds. "My brother was named Gabriel. Or_ is_ named Gabriel...he is not dead...I haven't seen him in years."

"That's rough," Dean grunted.

"Not really," Cas shrugged, "Our family is Hell risen to operate on Earth. He and I both could only take so much before we left."

Dean looked at him quietly for a few seconds. "Is that why you were wondering the streets when you came here?"

Cas paused. Faltered.

"Yes," He said, barely above a whisper, "But that is not the focus right now. The focus is your _income supplement."_

"Right. Of course."

Cas deliberated for a few seconds. God, is it hard to find the exact questions to satisfy your curiosity in a pinch. He felt like he was grasping straws trying to learn more about Dean. He finally settled on, "Do you enjoy it?"

"You ask the weirdest goddamn questions," Dean snorted and then laughed outright, "It's cute. I _do_ enjoy it. Enough to keep doing it."

"Good," Cas mumbled.

The two were silent.

"Is that all?" Dean asked, his tone shooting up in surprise.

Cas shrugged.

"Well, all right."


	8. Something Else

The day that followed was very much like the few others Cas had experienced while working at the cafe. Dean baked the pastries and arranged them while Cas watched with a slight smile. Dean grinned at customers ("Doesn't hurt me to smile. Doesn't hurt the tip jar, either," Dean joked) while Cas brewed coffee. Dean and Cas had conversations while sitting in the stools behind the counter in the periods where no customers entered the cafe. Cas felt like a routine was beginning to form as the day rushed by.

"We need to run to the grocery store, so we can eat dinner when we get home," Dean said as he pulled down the cord on the open sign to the cafe as the two finished closing the cafe.

Cas glanced at his watch as the two walked out onto the cold street. "It is ten thirty at night, Dean."

"Yeah, and?," Dean crossed his arms as they ambled along, "It's a celebration."

"What are we celebrating?"

"Sammy applied for this crazy, genius Stanford thing today," Dean turned to look at Cas with his wide, sincere eyes, "And he's really stressed. I want to do something for him."

"Dinner at ten thirty it is."

Dean laughed, and looked loftily to the rooftops of the buildings as the two continued down the street in silence. Cas' eyes stayed on the pavement in front of him. Dean's eyes slipped upward to the December stars in the sky, and he let out a contented sigh.

"What?" Cas turned his head to look at Dean's elevated face. He saw that Dean's eyes were closed, his expression slack and relaxed. A slight smile pulled the corners of his mouth toward the stars.

"Oh, nothing," He mumbled, "It's just that...a week ago, I would have been making this run to the store alone. Lonely. Tired. Dirty. But now," He lowered his eyes downward to meet Cas' with a smirk, " I'm all those things with you. We just met and I'm already comfortable making stupid trips to the store with you."

Cas felt an effortless smile spread across his face.

"For God's sake," Dean continued, "I told you I was a whore today and you shrugged like I had told you the date."

"Did you expect something else?"  
"Well, yeah. I've had plates thrown at me, slurs thrown in my face...one of my best friends went so far as to try and exorcise me when I told her," He chuckled at the memory, but then his eyes darkened, "I expected something else."

"I am sorry to disappoint," Cas smiled.

Dean paused. He stopped the two in place on the sidewalk, grabbed Cas' shoulders, and looked seriously into his eyes. "You are something else, Castiel."

Cas could have melted into a trembling pool of gooey, sappy feelings at that point. He may very well have if it wasn't so goddamn cold. Instead, his body decided upon pushing all of the air out his lungs, forcing his heart to escalate like he was sprinting the last five minutes of a marathon, and tying his stomach into a sputtering mess of fluttery tubes. His face must have came out somewhere between a bubbly smile and a deathly scowl.

"And I think my life needs something else, right now." Dean looked into his eyes with a smirk for a seconds more, before turning nonchalantly and continuing down the deserted street.

Cas stayed in place, catching his breath, before he quickened his step to catch up. "You are something else, Dean Winchester," He called to the man's back.

"Oh, am I?" Dean called over his shoulder.

"Yes, you are," Cas said as he caught up, "You effectively saved my life. You selflessly took me in. You are helping me rebuild a life. I have felt more comfortable these past few days-with you and Sam-than I have in my life up to this point."

"When you put it that way," Dean murmured with a sense of wonder, "I sound like a fucking super hero."

An uncharacteristically loud laugh erupted from Cas. One that reverberated of the walls of the buildings on the icy street. One that may very well have woken somebody up. Dean turned to him with a startled smile. The two sang out a duet of laughing all the way down the street. They only tried to stifle them once they entered the 24-hour grocery.

"What are we going to cook?" Cas' voice was tired.

"Sammy really likes salads," Dean gave Cas a skeptical glance, "But, I think we're going to coo-o-o-ok...pre-made barbeque chicken wings, salt and vinegar potato chips, and soda."

"Are you sure we have the manpower to do that?"

Dean chuckled and jokingly punched Cas' shoulder. The two picked out a cart and started steering it through the store. They flew through the place, Dean was obvious not new to this, and soon enough had a cart full of about fifty piece of chicken, three bags of chips, a twelve-pack of Coke, and a case of beer. As they walked up to the checkout, there was a woman in front of them wearing a pink sweat suit. She had a messy pony tail protruding from the back of her head. A scowl burned on her face while she pushed more beer than Dean had selected, smokes, and baby food to the cashier.

"Can I let you in on a secret?" Dean whispered, and motioned for Cas to come in closer.

Cas nodded.

"The only people who go to the grocery store at ten thirty on a weekday are whores, drug dealers, or stay-at-moms," He eyed the woman in front of them, "And especially any combinations of the three."

The two ran down the street with the grocery bags in their hands to get back to the apartment. Cas' body let out a sigh of relief as he sank into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and placed his bag on the surface.

"Soup's on!" Dean called to Sam as he arranged the feast on the table.

Sam entered the room, rubbing his eyes in his PJ's. "Good, I'm starving."

The three started to eat in silence. Chicken wings were chewed and swallowed, sodas opened, chips crushed between teeth without any sort of attempt at conversation. Cas shifted in his chair. The Winchesters were very good at doing things in silence, he noted. Cas was not.

"Congratulations on your application, Sam."

Sam swallowed. "Thanks, Cas."

"When will you hear back?"

"Well, since it's such an exclusive opportunity, they told me I should hear back in a week and a half," Sam said steadily, "On Christmas."

"On Christmas?" Dean scoffed, his mouth crowded with potato chips, "Mail doesn't get delivered on Christmas, Sammy."

"Email, Dean," Sam snarked back. Dean smiled as he stood up and wiped his hands on his shorts. Cas watched him walk into the kitchen.

"Exclusive...opportunity?" Cas queried, his eyes returning to Sam.

Sam nodded profusely. "If they select me I go for free."

"Free?"

"Totally free."

"That's astounding."

"It is," Dean piped up from the other room, "And I think it's about time we celebrated."

The sound of a gushing can popping open poked Cas' ears. Dean reappeared at the table sipping on a beer with a wide smile and holding two others in his off hand.

"No, Dean," Sam commanded, suddenly sounding more mature than he was, "You know I hate it when you drink."

"C'mon Sammy-"

Sam's face softened but he didn't budge an inch. "No."

"But-"

"Please," Sam's voice came out as half whisper while he fiddled with the food on his plate, "You remind too much of Dad when you drink."

Dean was silent for a second. His eyes were as wide as a canyon. Without a word, he turned quickly on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. The glug, splash, and swish of liquid falling out of the can into a metallic sink filled the apartment. Cas watched Sam from across the table as he rubbed his temples like a genie's lamp. Dean came back to the table sheepishly shifting his weight from his heels to his toes. His voice sounded raspy. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"It's fine, Dean," Sam exhaled and shook his head, suddenly sounding exhausted, "I'm just gonna go back to bed."

"But, Sammy, Cas and I were gonna watch a movie!"

Sam narrowed his eyes critically at Cas (who tried to look convincing) before he shook his head and stood up. "I need to get to bed. So do you."

"Cas and I don't need to be in until two-"

"Thanks for dinner." The door slammed.

Dean stood in place for a few seconds staring at it. Cas wracked his brain for something comforting to say, but Dean spoke first. "Might as well start a movie." It was more of a grumble.

Dean slumped over, and sank down into the couch while Cas stayed at the table, still like a statue. The intensity of the altercation between the brothers had left him with his head spinning.

"What do you want to watch?" Dean asked over his shoulder.

Cas shook the stupor out of head. "Anything is fine."

Dean went up to the TV, and started to fiddle around with DVD's while Cas moved to sit on the couch. The way the couch sagged forced Cas to slip toward the center. Dean snickered on the floor in front of him while he pushed a DVD into the player. He crawled back to the couch and plopped down right next to Cas, their thighs brushing.

"We're watching Home Alone," There was a wide childish grin on Dean's face, "Can you hand me that blanket?"

Cas reached over to grab it and gave it to Dean who started to spread it out over the both of them. "What's Home Alone?"

"You've never seen Home Alone?" Dean asked, sounding offended.

Cas shook his head.

"It's a classic Christmas movie! It's my favorite."

"I look forward to it," Cas smiled at Dean's enthusiasm.

Dean was all excitement about the movie (offering commentary, moving back and forth, laughing at all the jokes) until about fifteen minutes had elapsed, after which he passed out. Stone cold. Asleep. His jaw was slack, resting on Castiel's shoulder, his expression seeming to be too peaceful for the Dean Winchester Cas had become acquainted with over the past few days. Cas noted the innocence Dean's face seemed to possess when he asleep. He looked angelic. Cas felt the warmth of Dean's body pressed onto him, and his heart became an overheating nuclear reactor in his chest.

"How long have I been inspecting his sleeping face? Is this wrong? Am I a bad person?"

Cas tried to focus on the movie, but somewhere during the attempts of the burglars to enter the house, he started to fall asleep too. His jaw lowered itself down to rest on Dean's head.

The scene was almost too much for Castiel's tired heart. The saggy couch. The pictures of the wall. The half empty bags of chips on the table. Dean's needy, sleeping arms moving to grasp Cas' available body. The warmth that seemed to seep deeply into Cas' soul. The subtle tightening of Cas' pants. Dean's light snoring and other sleepy noises. Home Alone repeating endlessly on the TV all night.

Cas whispered as he lost consciousness, "You are something else, Dean Winchester."


	9. Sleeping Beauty

The sound of the mumbling TV flooded Cas' ears as he started to regain consciousness. He leaned further into his hard pillow and grumbled as the the embrace of the warm blanket and couch enveloped him. His mind felt groggy and cozy in a half asleep state. He stretched, smiled, and leaned into his stiff pillow. Lord, was it uncomfortable. It was almost _bony,_ even. Cas' eyes flew open in an instant and he moved away as the memory of the night before washed over his brain.

"Good morning, Cinderella," Dean smirked.

Cas was breathless. "Cinderella?"

"Or, uh, Aura?..._Elsa?_ Ar-" Dean scrunched up his face, and paused, but then gave up with an exhale, "Sleeping Beauty. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Good morning to you, too," Cas looked back into his lap feeling like his face was going to melt off. Dean smiled and went back to watching Home Alone which had, evidently, been playing on repeat all night. Cas watched Dean's profile the way Dean watched the movie. His hair was messier than usual, and he had the beginning of a five o'clock shadow. He looked much rougher than his usually primed (as Cas now realized it was) self. Dean turned suddenly to him, and Cas tried to move his eyes as surreptitiously as possible.

"What?" Curiosity colored his tone.

"Nothing," Cas' brow furrowed as he paused, "I apologize."

"For what?"

"For falling asleep on you."

"Hey, I'm guilty, too," Dean smiled widely and shamelessly, "You don't need to apologize."

Cas sighed and subtly moved closer to Dean. They sat and watched the movie quietly. Winchester silence again, it seemed. Dean laughed at every single one of the gags, but Cas didn't even chuckle. He found his heart warm and content in his chest as the pair existed together. It pounded a few beat quicker than usual, but not uncomfortably fast.

"When do we have to be in?" Cas broke the silence reluctantly.

"At two," Dean flicked his eyes over the check the wall clock," Which is in half an hour,_ holy shit."_ Dean stood up quickly, the blanket falling to floor. "Do you need to shower?"

"I would like to, yes."

"Okay, I'll go first," Dean said as he started walking toward the bathroom door. "Why don't you try and find something edible before I get out?" He called over his shoulder (with his shirt half off, Cas couldn't help but notice) and then shut the door behind him. Cas heard water start to spill onto the shower floor. He stood up from the couch and sauntered over the kitchen table, which he saw was still a mess from the "feast" the night before. Cas picked up the empty soda cans, the half-full bag of potato chips, and the remains of the chicken wings and he deposited them all in the trash can. As he start to root around in the fridge for something to eat, he heard a yowl from the bathroom.

_"Fuck!"_

"Dean, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean called through the door, "Goddamn shower is always so cold."

Cas foraged through the refrigerator for almost a full minute before he settled only drinking a glass of orange juice and grabbing an almost stale blueberry muffin off the counter. His mouth was full when Dean burst out of the bathroom with a towel hastily wrapped around his waist. He just about spit out his muffin in violent surprise. Cas' eyes were riveted instantly to Dean's wet and gleaming muscles, and he had to work to rip them up towards Dean's face as he started to talk.

_"Okay,"_ He exhaled sharply, "I can't turn the shower off, because it will get cold again. You can't take too long, or it will get cold again. Now, Cas, go!"

Cas rushed to swallow his muffin as he speed into the bathroom. He pulled his shirt over his head, and dropped his jeans to the floor before stepping into the shower to take one of the quickest showers of his life. He turned the shower off and carefully wrapped a towel around his waist. When he opened the bathroom door, Dean was sitting at the table chewing on a muffin and drinking from the juice Cas had poured.

"Your clean uniform is on my dresser." His mouth was full.

"Thank you," Cas turned to go into Dean's room, and then wished he hadn't.

"Whoa! _Cas?"_ Dean voice was filled with concern. Cas cringed internally before turning again to meet Dean's eyes. They were wide and sincere and made Cas' heart swell up. But, he knew what to do. He had had this conversation a million times before. "Where the_ hell_ are all those scars from?"

"They are nothing, Dean," Cas said flatly and avoided his eyes, "We are late." Cas turned quickly into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. He leaned his head back against the door let out a pent up breath in a nervous sigh. Dean would have to know. He would _need_ to. Cas had really been trying not to think about them since he had left and since Dean had found him. Cas moved to the dresser and pulled on his shorts and shirt, and smoothed them out in the mirror. He would tell Dean later, he decided. He paused in front of the door and tried to make his facial expression look as casual as possible. It came out as a sort of constipated scowl. Cas shook out cheeks and lips, and tried to keep his mind blank as he pushed the door open.

"If we hurry, we can still make it on time," Cas mumbled as he walked passed Dean-who had been waiting outside the bedroom door- and tried to make it out the front door.

"Cas,_ wait,"_ Dean commanded as he grabbed Cas' wrist and wrested his around to look into his eyes. Cas saw that they were scorching like hellfire. His tone was elevated and serious and served only to further boil Cas' blood, sending his heart into a heated overdrive. Dean continued through clenched teeth: "Those scars_ aren't_ nothing. And I'm pretty sure I saw a fresh bruise, too. Are you okay?"

"Dean, I am fine," Cas exhaled, trying to steady his nerves and his racing heart. "I am okay,_ now._ Can we go? We are late."

Dean narrowed his eyes and searched deep into Cas' soul. Cas held his breath. After a few seconds, Dean widened his eyes and nodded, seeming convinced, and moved to pull on his coat. Cas released a quiet sigh of relief. Dean led the way down the street in Winchester silence and soon the two were nearing the Cafe. Cas was lost in his head deciding how he would handle telling Dean more about the source of his scars when the two walked through the door. Cas' mind was so tangled up with confusing lies, harsh truths, Dean's wide smile, round face full of concern, and the sound of a relentless belt ripping against his vulnerable flesh that he was barely even cognizant to who was ogling behind the counter.

"Cassie! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Cas' head whipped up in an instant when he heard.

His eyes flung around the cafe to hone in on the source of the voice. He found a pair of eyes twinkling at him, a mess of black hair, and a familiar smirk burning into his eyes.

_"Gabe?"_

"Cas," Gabe greeted his brother from across the restaurant floor with an aggrandized smile, "Come give you favorite brother a hug."

"Whoa, _wait,"_ Dean said slowly, "That's your _brother_ Gabriel?"

Cas nodded to Dean and then started toward the counter.

"And this is your_ little brother_ Castiel?"

Gabe nodded at Dean.

"The one who wet the bed until he was fourteen? I didn't put _that_ together."

Gabe laughed and nodded again.

"Gabe, you told him that?" Cas blushed as he reached his brother.

"Only the best information gets shared, little brother," Gabe scooped Cas up into a bear hug and squeezed him. Once Cas was finally released from Gabe's grasp he felt the air rush back into his lungs like they were a vacuum. Dean had moved behind the counter with the two of them, and was arranging the display case as always- he worked silently, trying to give the brothers a moment to reconnect. Cas' eyes flicked over to admire Dean's bent figure but he quickly moved them back to study Gabe's face as their bodies parted. If Gabe had seen Cas' stray eyes, he had ignored them. As Cas scrutinized Gabe's face, he saw that he looked older...more mature. More visible laugh line encircled his playful eyes than when they had lived together three years ago.

"You look a lot more worn than when I last saw you," Gabe said suddenly, sounding serious as he examined Cas' face.

"I suppose I am," Cas sighed, "You look happier."

"I suppose I am," A wide smile broke across his face, the seriousness gone as he continued, "Anyway, how the hell did you end up in this rathole of a place? Did Mommy and Daddy finally kick you out for liking boys?"

Cas blushed again (no one could embarrass him like Gabe had always been able to) and looked to Dean to gauge his response. He hadn't even flinched.

"Gabe," Cas quietly chastised, trying to smother his blush.

"What?" Gabe followed Cas' eyes to look at Dean confusedly, "Is that supposed to be a _dirty secret?_ New flash, _this_ man," Gabe poked a finger at Dean, "Has a _lot_ of sex with a _lot_ of men. And that's fine. I like to fondle a _lot_ of boobies. And that's fine. You are attracted to men. _And that's fine!_ Calm down, Cas. We're all friends here."

Dean laughed and looked fondly at Gabe, "Goddammit, I've missed you."

"They always do," Gabe smirked, "It guess it's just my irresistible charm."

Dean let out a throaty chuckle. "What you call 'irresistible charm,' I call a refreshing dose of asshole."

"Call it what you want, I always make my commisions," Gabe sneered. Cas let out a delighted laugh and Gabe rolled his eyes, but then suddenly honed his eyes onto his brother. "Oh Cas, Crowley told me he wanted to see you in the penthouse when you got in."

Cas had been entranced in the exchange between Gabe and Dean and was surprised when Gabe suddenly dragged him out of silence. "Oh," He cleared his throat, "For what?"

"I don't fuckin' know, go ask him yourself."

"A-all right. I'll be right back down," Cas looked to Dean who smiled encouragingly before he started to walk over to the elevator. As before the door to the corridor closed he heard Gabe shout from the counter: "Don't let Crowley make you do anything you don't want to!"

Cas walked up to the machine and pressed the up button. He started to rock back and forth on his heels as he waited. He bit down and chewed on his bottom lip, his nervous urges taking over. It was comforting for his brother-whom he had considered for all intensive purposes lost- to suddenly show up in this new life of his. At the same time, it brought up a lot of ugly stuff from his past. Cas shrunk back from the mention of their parents. Too many developments had occurred in one day and he didn't know how to process them. And, then, the elevator door dinged open.

* * *

"Don't let Crowley do anything you don't want to!" Gabe called right before the door to the hallway closed, and then (once Cas was out of earshot) he continued in the same breath, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Winchester?"

Dean blinked. "Moving the fresh blueberry muffins to the front of the display."

"No, dipshit, with my little brother," Gabe glared at Dean, suddenly malicious, "Taking his ass in without even telling me, I oughta punch you in the jaw right here and now."

"Whoa, what? _Gabe,"_ Dean held his hand up to his head in retaliation to Gabe raising his fists, "How was I supposed to know he was your brother?"

"I talk all the time about my favorite little brother Castiel, about how he's the only family I even miss back home," Gabe narrowed his eyes as his voice got more and more venomous, "How many fuckin' Castiels do you there are in this world?"

"I don't kno-"

"I swear to _God,_ Winchester, if you hurt him I will skin you alive and furnish my apartment with your tan, freckled pelt."

"Gabe, calm down," Dean drawled out.

"No, Dean," Gabe was shouting now, "Cas is too simple and has gone through too much shit to have a player like you in his life! I've known you for long enough to know what you're trying to do with him, Winchester. Have you tried to fuck him, yet?"

"Gabe," Dean was calm, trying to reign in Gabe's temper.

"What?"

"I'm not playing your brother," Dean said quietly, "I really like him. I do. I'm trying to help him out."

Gabe narrowed his eyes and studied Dean. He looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity there and his anger deflated inside him like a balloon. He pushed his lip out in a scowl and replied, "Okay, but be careful. Because I think he really likes you, too. And he isn't wishy washy like you are, he will go all in if_ you_ let him."

* * *

Cas held his breath as the elevator ascended up the building. What could Crowley want to speak to him privately about? Was he already going to be fired? He could not have done anything that horrifyingly awful yet...had he? Cas felt his heart quicken in his chest. First Dean and he fell asleep together (which was a total violation if Cas had ever seen one), then Dean found his scars, and then Gabe was suddenly back in his life...too many things were happening. It was too much for Cas to handle-

"Are you coming in, or am I going to have to shout?" Crowley voice from the penthouse woke Cas up out a daze. He had been standing silently in the open-doored elevator for a few seconds it seemed. He shook his quickly to clear it and walked into the penthouse.

"There we go," Crowley crooned and then motioned grandly to a chair set up across from his seat on blood red couch, "Why don't you take a seat?"

Cas mechanically walked over and sat down. He looked into Crowley's eyes trying to stifle his nervousness. His voice came out raspy. "What is it, sir?"

"Well, my boy," Crowley smiled devilishly, "What would you say to receiving an..._income supplement?"_


End file.
